


A Study In MorMor

by caesiumfluoride



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal, M/M, Mild S&M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-20
Updated: 2012-11-20
Packaged: 2017-11-19 03:56:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/568815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caesiumfluoride/pseuds/caesiumfluoride
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles (sort of). Mostly smut and fluff. Some elements of S&M. Pairing: Morairty/Moran. Do not expect much plot, chronological or thematic continuity.  Any geographical/military inconsistencies are not due to ignorance on my part, but are a result of my half-arsed attempt to consolidate Doyle’s stories with the present day. I may have drawn inspiration from prompts here and there. First fic ever; critique welcome. I do not own these endearing bastards.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Study In MorMor

Colonel Sebastian Moran did not give a fuck about much. The list of things he did give a fuck about was limited to guns. Guns, and the things one could do with them. Aim, fire, kill. Assassinate. Hunt. Despite his officer rank in the British Army, military matters did not interest him much either. This included such pointless, flimsy concepts as nobility, loyalty and honour. No, what mattered to the Colonel was the thrill of seeking out his prey, savouring the last few moments of life that he was in control of, and pulling the trigger.  
This was the reason why, instead of attending the officers’ mess in the camp that evening, the sniper chose instead to slip into the Indian jungle, rifle strapped around his shoulder, to slay the feline beast. As he knelt beside the giant creature after a successful pursuit and kill, using his knife to slice open her underside and digging his dirty hands into her bloody innards, he sighed with relief. Not because he would make a substantial amount of money selling the amputated parts of his quarry to the natives in the dusty alleyways of the towns surrounding the camp, but because, in a perverse way, putting an end to his victim satisfied him deeply. This was what set him apart from the other snipers, was the subdued thought at the back of his mind, he enjoyed it.   
Moran flinched and turned suddenly, his hand instinctively reaching for his rifle, when he heard a rustle behind him. He faced a small native boy, who held out a folded piece of paper and then disappeared swiftly once Moran took it. The Colonel scanned the dense jungle around himself suspiciously before opening the paper and finding that it enclosed a cheque of 10,000 pounds sterling. The handwritten note read as follows:

Hey Tiger,   
I can offer much more than this if you complete a few tiny errands for me. Could be fun.  
JM

Moran had no idea who “JM” was, but was immediately intrigued. When he arrived back at the base that night, he found a parcel sitting on his bed. The print on the brown paper read IMPORT TO UK. Moran assumed the parcel contained illicit substances of some sort and slipped it behind his headboard.   
***  
Of course he was caught. The Colonel was unceremoniously discharged from the army, but, providential as it was mysterious, was not put on trial (Moran assumed this was the doing of his new anonymous employer). The expulsion did not bother him, much because the “errands” he was now running were far more exciting than the boring peacekeeping mission he had been part of in Kashmir. Since his return to London, he had completed six assassinations. Sometimes the orders and instructions would be slipped to him alongside a bill at a bar, at other times he would get a text message from a blocked number. After every completed job, he found that his bank balance had increased appreciably. Not a bad exchange for the dull military life he had led just a few weeks ago, he mused as he perched on a rooftop one evening, eying the windows of the office building opposite carefully.   
“Hey, Tiger.”  
Moran turned with a fright, and had already pulled his handgun out of his leather jacket pocket by the time he managed to make out the silhouette of a man standing next to the doorway leading onto the rooftop. The man moved closer and Moran saw that he was dressed in an elegant suit, with carefully groomed dark hair and a smirk on his face.   
“Jim Moriarty, consulting criminal.”  
Jim Moriarty. JM. So this slight young man, gazing at him with large eyes – the eyes of a doe, Moran thought, were they not so black – was his boss.   
“I’m proud of myself,” Jim Moriarty continued in a sing-song drawl, “I managed to attract the best shot in the British Army. And the sexiest too, by the looks of it. Ah, but don’t let me distract you from your work.”  
Moriarty ambled back to the closed door and leant against it, facing Moran, who held his stare for a moment before turning back to his rifle. They remained that way for several silent minutes, the criminal casually leaning against the door with his hands in his pockets, studying the sniper’s back, while Moran leant over his rifle and tried his best to return to his concentrated task of looking for movement in the office building opposite, whose windows were darkening one by one as it emptied for the night. The sound of the London evening traffic floated in the pleasant summer dusk around them from the streets below. Moran tensed when the wanted man stepped into view in one of the few windows that were still lit – the manager’s office apparently – and focused his scope on the blonde head, then drew back the trigger. The bullet made a cracked hole through the window and the man fell over his desk. Moran sat back on his heels and immediately began disassembling the rifle.   
“Well done, Sebastian,” came the voice from behind him. Moran looked over his shoulder.   
“Thank you.”  
“You’ll be hearing more from me.” Moriarty opened the door and disappeared through it, letting it fall behind him with a click.   
Curiously, the part of the conversation that clung to the assassin’s mind the most and repeated itself alluringly was the manner in which his boss pronounced his name.  
Seb-a-stian.  
***  
Sebastian was not entirely sure what the purpose of the visit to his boss’s apartment was. Yet when the consulting criminal opened the door with a sardonic look on his face, it dawned on Sebastian. In the time since he had returned from India, he had been ordered to exterminate a large variety of people; people who, no doubt, posed a potential threat to the criminal. How could he have been so blind not to realize that his time would come too, once his boss had tired of his services.   
“Don’t expect me to make this easy for you, boss,” he announced, as Moriarty led him into the elegant living room, “I won’t go down without a fight.”  
Sebastian almost registered the look of astonished amusement that crossed Moriarty’s face before it became inscrutable and serious. Moriarty reached into his suit jacket and drew out a gun, which he cocked and aimed at Sebastian’s face, walking towards him. Once he was within arm’s reach, Sebastian knocked the gun out of his hand and gave him a hard blow to the head; Moriarty retaliated with a solid punch in the stomach and both ended up on the floor, grappling; somehow, Moriarty managed to get his hands on the gun once more; he held it to Sebastian’s temple as he sat on top of him, nose bleeding. He lowered his head to the assassin’s.   
Moriarty pressed his lips to Sebastian’s. After some long, bewildered moments, Sebastian returned and deepened the kiss.   
Moriarty broke away after a while. “I wasn’t planning on killing you, you dolt. Now help me clean up the mess of my nose.”  
Luckily, it was not broken. Sebastian handed him a wet cloth and Moriarty gingerly wiped off the dried blood. Having finished, he looked up at Sebastian, who brought their lips together once more. Before long they were lying on the silk sheets of Moriarty’s bed, Sebastian on top, pressing their groins together. He unbuttoned Moriarty’s shirt and caressed his chest, planting kisses on his nipples. Moriarty reached into Sebastian’s pants and bared his arse, then found his cock. He gave the member few strokes and Sebastian’s neck wet kisses. Sebastian reciprocated, freeing the criminal’s cock and rubbing it.   
“Good, Sebastian...” Moriarty dug his finger’s into Sebastian’s fair hair as he climaxed, pressing his hips upwards with a moan. He did not slacken his grip on Sebastian’s slick erection.   
Sebastian came with an exclaimed mixture of curses and the other’s name.   
***  
It took a few moments before Sebastian realized whose bed he had woken up in. The silk sheets sliding under his toned back were unfamiliar as he turned, but the events of last night came back to him the moment he blinked and opened his eyes. The smell of breakfast wafted in from the kitchen, accompanied by Jim’s humming.   
“Do you like your bacon crispy?” Jim called.   
***  
Sebastian was gradually spending more and more time in Jim’s apartment and only rarely got back to his own small rooms between jobs. Early one morning, after a particularly hard, but satisfying night’s work, he entered his dim living quarters to find Jim leaning against the mantlepiece.  
“Hello, Jim.”  
“Hello, darling. I hope you had a good night.”  
“I did indeed. Who would’ve thought that kidnapping a banker could be so entertaining. I put him in the cellar as you ordered.”  
Jim looked around with distaste.   
“You live here? Am I not paying my right-hand man enough?”  
“I haven’t had much time to look for something better since I got back.” This was true; what with all the killing and extorting and fucking, the sniper had not had the chance to move to a more fashionable part of the capital. Jim shrugged. Sebastian had the sudden urge to rip the trim grey suit off the other man’s body, throw him to the floor and fuck him into the worn carpet. He reached the mantlepiece in two long steps and held Jim in a crushing kiss, fingers fumbling at his black tie. Jim clasped Sebastian’s hands.   
“Shhhh. We’ve got the whole day,” he murmured, “Also, careful; Westwood.” His lips brushed against Sebastian’s, who freed his hands and went back to work at undressing Jim, more calmly this time, but breathing heavily through his nose. Once Jim was bare except for black Westwood briefs, Sebastian was about to push him over roughly, but Jim escaped his grip and slipped into the hallway.   
“Bedroom, darling.”  
Jim lay with his arse on the edge of the bed and his legs raised and spread slightly, his bulge noticeable through his underwear. Sebastian stood between his knees and ran the fingers of one hand along the line of dark hair down Jim’s abdomen. They brushed over his bulge for a moment before tugging at the waistband and pulling off his underwear, disclosing his semi-hard cock. It slanted to one side a bit, settled in its nest of dark hairs. Sebastian pulled back Jim’s foreskin, revealing his pink head, then knelt and nuzzled his balls. He proceeded to probe the bulb of his penis and the soft skin just before his anus with his fingertips, then spread the cheeks and pressed his tongue against Jim’s entrance. The latter, who had been lying still and breathing steadily now let out a low moan, encouraging Sebastian to circle his tongue around his hole, then press it in harder, which elicited a whimper. Sebastian inserted an index finger, while his other hand almost frantically groped for lube in his bedside table; his cock was straining against his jeans and he was desperate to surround it with Jim’s heat. Soon he was working two slick fingers into Jim, sliding them in and out and scissoring gradually against the tight muscle, whilst clumsily opening his own belt buckle.   
Sebastian began thrusting hard and fast the moment he inserted his lubed, flushed cock into Jim, but was stopped by a sudden painful tug at his neck. Jim had snatched his dog tags and tightened the metal chain around Sebastian’s throat in a firm grip.   
“What’s the hurry, darling? Not so selfish.”  
Sebastian paid no heed to Jim’s softly spoken instructions and continued to pump aggressively, but was instantly brought to a halt when he felt the metal cut into his skin; Jim tightened his grip on the tags and pulled the assassin’s head down.   
“I said slow!”  
Jim rested his knees on Sebastian’s shoulders, who wore a resentful expression, but resumed to move his hips more slowly. With each languid plunge, Jim gave rise to a lewd moan, one arm splayed above his head, the other retaining the dog collars, occasionally arching his back. Sebastian, huffing, did his best to control the rhythm, but at times, and despite himself, became more forceful, which earned him a painful tug on the chain around his straining neck and a scold from Jim.   
Sebastian noted that Jim’s cock was a bit harder, but still lay between them, unattended to.   
“Touch yourself.”  
“No.”  
“Fine, I’ll take care of it.” Sebastian stroked Jim’s cock until it was pulsating and slick with pre-cum. His thrusts became faster once more, but Jim’s castigating became inconsistent and his scolding disjointed; his eyes were closed and his mouth slack as he ejaculated on his stomach with jolts of his hips.   
Sebastian was also close to the edge and pumped harder; his vigour caused him to lose his footing and slip, collapsing on top of Jim as he came. After the last pulses of Sebastian’s orgasm had subsided, he rolled off Jim and lay next to him, panting. Jim looked at him through thick lashes.   
“Now let’s go down to the cellar and have some fun with that banker.”  
***  
“There is no way I will watch this shit.”  
“Nonsense, sweetheart.”  
“Give me the remote.”  
“No. I need to find out if Kurt and Blaine will get together. You’ll love it too, I promise!”  
“Fuck you,” muttered Sebastian, but made no attempt to leave from under the blanket they had snuggled with on the couch.   
As far as Sebastian could follow, Glee was about a group of over-dramatic teenagers who sang aggrandized songs and despaired over banalities. It was more ridiculous than he had imagined, although he denied to himself that his foot did tap along to the music and the corner of his lips did twitch at some of the cheerleading coach’s more sarcastic remarks. Jim watched the episode intently, laughing loudly at every moderately funny line of dialogue and squealing and squirming with delight when the two boys declared their love.   
“Yessss, they’ve had us waiting far too long for that beautiful kiss,” he chortled, looking into Sebastian’s weary face.   
“That Molly girl has a terrible influence on you.”  
***  
A wet sensation woke Sebastian. Jim was pressed up against his back, caressing his ear with his lips and tongue. With a groan, Sebastian flipped themselves over so he was lying on top of the criminal and growled.   
“You forget I am a soldier. And I've killed people for far less than waking me from my slumber."   
“You’re not a soldier anymore, darling, I took care of that.” His gaze into Sebastian’s eyes was brazenly sensual, mouth half open, breathing shallowly. Sebastian ran his lips over the morning scruff along Jim’s jawline, then sank his teeth just under his ear as he settled himself between his legs. He vaguely wondered whether Jim would get angry if he drew blood. After all, he had chastised him before for causing too visible an injury. Now however, Jim was grabbing both his arse cheeks, moaning unabashedly, and Sebastian could feel his hardness against his own swelling groin through the thin cotton pyjama trousers. Throwing all caution to the wind, Sebastian bit down harder, until he tasted an unmistakable metallic tang. Jim let out a louder sound of pleasure and, with sudden strength, flipped themselves over again so he was straddling the other. Drops of blood from the bite-wound fell thickly onto Sebastian’s bare chest. Jim used his tongue to spread them, then licked his nipple hungrily.   
They were in Sebastian’s bed, which was considerably narrower than Jim’s; if they flipped over one more time, they would fall out. Sebastian sat up, wrapped an arm around Jim’s torso and tipped themselves over the edge. The back of Jim’s head hit the parquet with a thud, yet he kept his horny stare, his breathing becoming heavier. Sebastian pulled off Jim’s pyjama trousers to free his hard cock, which sprang upwards, already glazed in pre-cum. He slid their shafts together while continuing to bite Jim’s neck. It did not take him long to climax and he ejaculated onto Jim’s hip and lower stomach. Then he lay next to Jim on the floor, relishing the release.   
Jim kicked Sebastian, whose surprised exclamation was met with an angrily expectant glare.   
“Oh, right.” Sebastian moved to Jim’s groin, where his cock was hard and eager. He licked his own semen off Jim’s body, then pressed his lips against the penis. Holding the base in a tight grip, he swirled his tongue around the head, then sucked on it, hard, until his mouth made a noise of suction as it slipped off.   
“Mmh, that’s it, Tiger.”  
Sebastian massaged the underside of Jim’s cock with his tongue, gave it a few strokes with his hand, then put it in his mouth again and continued sucking. Jim gave an increasingly breathless commentary, which broke down into inarticulate sounds when Sebastian grazed his teeth along the shaft and fluttered over the head with his tongue. When Jim came in Sebastian’s mouth, he wailed with delight and grabbed the assassin’s hair, staining it with blood.   
“That was worth waking up for, wasn’t it?” Jim was still lying on the floor and his eyes were still closed. The wound at his neck was beginning to clot. Sebastian buttoned up his trousers.   
“Indeed.”  
***  
"I should get myself a live-in one." Jim’s thoughts immediately went to Sebby. It was about time his sniper moved out of those tiny rooms.   
***  
Seb was tired and dirty when he pushed open the apartment door that evening.   
"Jim, I'm home!"   
He was greeted with silence. Setting the black case carrying his rifle in the hallway, he walked into the living room. Jim was lying on the couch, laptop on stomach. Bright green numbers ran across the screen on a black background. Seb supposed Jim had fallen asleep while hacking into a bank’s computer system, as had become the criminal’s habit in the past few days; he gazed at him affectionately for a moment, sleeping like a baby while a further bank, and another part of Europe’s economy, crashed right in front of him. Jim’s head was tilted to the side and his mouth was slightly open, breathing quietly. Seb set the laptop on the coffee table and wrapped a cashmere blanket, which usually lay folded on the couch, around Jim, then had a shower and went to bed.  
***  
"Tiger, I'm home."  
Seb had heard the keys in the door. The figure that now walked into the kitchen, where Seb was making a cup of tea, lacked its usual vigor. Jim looked drained, thin and wan. Sleep deprival, evidently. Seb noticed traces of a bruise under his left eye. The consulting criminal had indisputably been beaten during interrogation, but god knew that he could stand, even appreciated, a bit of pain. Seb planted a kiss on his hollow cheek.   
"Dartmoor really is lovely; you should visit it sometime, Sebby. Although I must say, Baskerville isn't the most hospitable of places." Jim rested his forehead against the crook of Seb’s neck and inhaled deeply. "The ice-man drives a tough bargain, but I had no greater troubles in dealing with him."   
***  
Seb entered the abandoned car park.   
“Jim?”  
“Over here, darling,” came the echoing voice. Seb walked in its direction and, turning around a concrete pillar, spotted the criminal in the shadows, standing with his hands on his hips in front of a quivering figure on the ground. Seb flicked away his cigarette as he approached.   
“Seb, I’ve given up on her. She doesn’t seem to be able to tell me any more.”   
The woman’s blonde hair hung over her terrified face.   
“Would you like me to try extracting more information?”   
“No, it’s fine,” sighed Jim, “End her. I’ll be waiting for you outside.” He walked away with his hands in his pockets. Seb waited until he had disappeared, then turned to face the lady, whose lips were quaking. He drew his gun, cocked and aimed, lingering until she made eye contact, then pulled the trigger. The shot rang through the grey shadows. Pocketing the gun and pulling out another cigarette, he made his way to Jim outside.   
***  
“Cucumber sandwich?”  
“Yes please, Jim.”   
The two men sat on a red tartan blanket in the middle of a field. Bees hummed in the wildflowers around them as they had their picnic, sharing crisps and orange juice from a wicker basket.   
When they had finished eating, Jim took off his cardigan and folded it as a pillow. He rested his head on it and watched the clouds moving across the powder blue sky above. Sebastian leant on one elbow and chewed on the end of a long piece of grass, observing cows grazing peacefully in the next field. After relaxing in silence for some time and noticing that the evening breeze was getting chilly, they decided it was time to go home.   
Sebastian opened the trunk and Jim dropped the blanket on top of the tethered man inside, jamming the basket next to his petrified face and ignoring his muffled groans.   
“Ok, ready to go,” he said to Seb, who slammed the trunk door shut once more.  
***  
Come home. - JM  
I’m the middle of a job. - SM  
I need you. - JM  
I’ll be home when I’m done. - SM  
I need you. Inside me. Now. - JM  
It can wait. - SM  
Fine, I’ll just use a dildo. Doesn’t feel quite like you, though. - JM  
I’ll be there in half an hour - SM  
***  
"Do you have to make it this dramatic?"   
"Sebby, I've got style. I'm not a common robber; I’m sexy. You of all people should know." The tube jolted through the tunnels and Jim occasionally bumped into Seb. He was slumped in his chair, humming Rossini and occasionally adjusting the London tourist hat on his slick hair.   
"When will I see you again?"  
"Soon enough. Did you make sure to find out which hotel rooms to hack into?"  
“Yes.” Sebastian could not understand his boss’s obsession with “The Virgin”. Surely if Jim was so safe from the justice system, an amateur detective posed no threat to his empire of crime. Sebastian suspected it was more than a matter of simply defying the law; the way Jim titillated and coaxed the detective was indicative of a more profound intellectual connection, which sometimes vexed the sniper.   
***  
What Jim loved about Sebastian was the way he cradled his rifle; the way he sat in front of the fire in the evenings and polished it; his toned back and firm arse; the hard set of his jaw; his silent menacing nature; the tenderness that now and then softened his grey eyes.   
What Sebastian loved about Jim was his deviant tastes; his unpredictable voice; his recklessness and vulnerability; the way he wore cardigans and sweats when he wasn’t in tailored suits; the softness of his hair against Sebastian’s cheek when they cuddled on the couch.   
There were times when there was none of the usual fierce challenging or aggressive playfulness during sex, just gasping into one another’s mouths and clutching at bedsheets and muffled moans against each other’s necks.   
***  
“Hello, are you ready for the story? This is story of Sir – Seb, you’re making me laugh!”  
“Sorry. Shall we start again?”  
“Yes, of course.”  
Seb fumbled with the video recorder. “Ok, ready? Action.”  
“Hello, are you ready for the story? This is the story of Sir Boast-A-Lot. Sir Boast-A-Lot was the brightest and boldest knight at the –”  
“Wasn’t it ‘bravest and cleverest’?”  
“Oh right, so it was. Start again.”  
***  
Jim was extremely vocal during sex.   
One entire wall of their bedroom was glass and looked out on a magnificent view of the city. Sebastian pressed Jim against it as he slipped his lubed cock between the criminal’s arse cheeks and thrust it through his crack a few times.   
“Get in me, Tiger.” Jim pressed his hands against the window; his head was turned to the side and one half of his face, his chest and his groin were all being flattened against the glass, legs spread and on tiptoes. Sebastian inserted himself with a groan and moved his hips rhythmically, fucking the criminal into the glass, into the dusk panorama of London’s twinkling lights that spread out below them.   
Jim moaned and shrieked shamelessly, cries of encouragement making Sebastian thrust harder, pressing his face into Jim’s neck. He reached around and took hold of Jim’s cock, stroking it to draw out more vocalizations of delight. Sebastian shuddered when he climaxed, but continued to stroke vehemently until Jim, almost laughing between moans and whimpers, squirted on the glass, adding his fluids to the urban scenery.  
***  
The waves roared as they made their perpetual impact with the rocks and the sun shone on two men standing on the beach, attempting to unravel the strings of a bright red kite.   
“It’s a simple knot, Sebby. Did they not teach you how to untangle strings at officer school?”  
“You do it then if you’re so clever, Professor.”  
After tediously unknotting the twines as Jim watched, criticizing and smirking, Sebastian stood a little distance from him, holding the kite.   
“Ready?”, he called.  
“Let it go!”, Jim shouted back, tugging at the handles on the ends of the strings. The kite soared upwards in a strong gust and Sebastian shielded his eyes as he admired the red dot against the sky.   
Jim was in stitches when he steered the kite into Seb at full velocity.   
***  
“Sorry Seb, I’m soooo changeable.”  
“Huh; wha – ow!”  
Jim pushed Sebastian, who had been ardently pumping into Jim from behind, off himself and climbed out of bed.  
“I’ve had another idea of how to tighten my net around The Virgin and need to put it into action immediately,” he warbled as he walked out of the bedroom, stark naked. Sebastian sighed and slumped back onto the sheets. Frustrated, he took care of himself and made sure to spunk onto Jim’s expensive black silk dressing-gown.   
***  
Sebastian was naked, tethered, blindfolded and gagged, kneeling on the living room carpet. Jim stood over him in an elegant black suit. He petted and lightly brushed against Sebastian’s erection with a riding crop.   
“So you find ruining my clothes funny, do you?”  
Sebastian remained silent. Jim whipped his arse with the crop once, hard.  
“Do you?”  
Sebastian shook his head. Jim seized his shoulders and bent him over. With his hands tied behind his back, the side of his face pressed into carpet, Sebastian supported himself with his left shoulder. His behind was raised and Jim contemplated the exposed arse and hanging balls. Placing a foot on Sebastian’s back, he pulled his arse cheeks further apart and inserted the end of the crop. Sebastian gave a low stifled moan. Jim moved it in a circular motion, which drew out another, louder moan, then took it out. He retrieved a dildo from the bedroom and doused it with lubricant before returning to the living room, where Sebastian was still bent over, just as he had left him. Standing over him once more, he pressed the tip of the dildo to Sebastian’s entrance. The latter whimpered helplessly when Jim inserted it inch by inch. Then, taking a step back, Jim admired his work. Sebastian, his muscular frame bent over and shuddering, wrists and ankles tied, dildo in his arse.   
“Well, I’d better be off. I have urgent matters that need seeing to.” Jim walked out.   
***   
Jim and Seb cuddled in bed one evening.   
“I never did ask you what you got up to with that Molly girl.”  
“Oh, we went out for dinner a few times, the theatre, cinema, she brought me to her house, introduced me to her cat, we watched Glee.”  
“Hm, fun,” Seb mocked, digging his face into Jim’s hair.   
“After making out on the couch, we ended up in bed.”  
Sebastian looked up suddenly.  
“She wrapped her legs around me as I pushed back her hair and licked her neck.”  
Sebastian’s eyes narrowed.  
“She made nice little sounds when I undressed her.”  
The sniper sat up.  
“Then I slipped my tongue between her labia and ran it from her hole up to her clit.”  
He snarled in his attempt to spread Jim’s legs, which were pressed together.  
“Her hole was so warm and moist around my cock.”  
Succeeding to part Jim’s legs, Sebastian spat on his hand and gave himself a few strokes, lining himself up.   
“I came on her b–”  
Sebastian entered and the initial pain silenced Jim.   
“You were saying?” Sebastian growled as he pushed in the length of his cock.   
“H-her boobs were covered in my sp– ah!” Jim gasped, but maintained a provocative expression. Sebastian slowly drew out his cock, stopping just before the head came out. “Continue.”  
“She loved my ungh–” (Sebastian had thrust himself in again in one fast movement) “– fingers inside her.” Jim’s eloquence rapidly deteriorated as Sebastian’s motions became faster, stumbling over words which soon became incoherent exclamations and curses.   
When he had finished, Sebastian lay back down next to Jim, who was still dazed and quietly whimpered when he turned to his side.   
“Have fun walking tomorrow.”  
***  
“When you reach out for me, yeah, and the feelin’ is bright, then I get night fever, night fever. We know how to do it. Gimme that night fever, night fever. We know how to show it,” Jim belted out cheerfully, now and then pretending the handle of the mop was a microphone as he danced. The BeeGees blared loudly and the water in the bucket was getting murky with a brownish red tint as he mopped up the blood from the kitchen floor. Seb scrubbed at the splatters on the bottom of the cupboards with a sponge.   
“Is it really necessary to turn the kitchen into a disco?”  
“What, Sebby, don’t you like my dancing?” asked Jim in mock disappointment. He turned his bum towards the sniper and wiggled it. “After all, it’s your own fault for skinning someone so clumsily. You made such a mess.”  
***  
Jim hummed as he chopped tomatoes and put them into the frying pan Seb was stirring.   
“We’re going to need a bigger pot for the pasta,” he commented, bending over to fish one out of a kitchen cupboard. Seb could not help noticing the yellow underwear very visible above the waistline of Jim’s jeans, which hung low. He curled his fingers behind the waistband and pulled, revealing the top of Jim’s arse-crack, then let it snap back. Jim straightened up and placed the pot on the stove.   
“How’s the IT work at the hospital?”  
“Ordinary. Today I hacked into the patients’ records and ensured that an 83 year-old lady got a liposuction instead of a hip replacement.”  
Seb chuckled fondly and kissed the top of Jim’s head, slipping his hands into the back of his yellow underwear. Jim tilted his head upwards and parted Seb’s lips with his tongue. They kissed for several long moments, shuffling out of the kitchen and into the bedroom. Jim pushed Seb onto the sheets and undid his belt buckle. Very soon Seb’s cock was growing hard inside Jim’s mouth. Jim relished the throbbing member, crooning softly as he licked and kissed it. He pushed the foreskin back with his lips, letting the cock slide deep into his mouth, until the head almost touched the back of his throat. Seb raised his hips, but Jim drew back titillatingly, pushing Seb’s hips back down firmly, then repeating the slow deep penetration of his mouth some more times. Seb grew impatient and dug his fingers into Jim’s dark hair, pushing down while raising his hips. Jim’s nose almost touched Seb’s pubic hair, then was tugged back before being pressed down again. All this time Jim sucked as best he could and let the tip of Seb’s cock invade his throat. He swallowed the semen while looking into Seb’s eyes.  
Jim climbed onto Seb, kneeling on top of his arms and straddling his upper chest. Seb occasionally lifted his head to touch the tip of Jim’s cock with his tongue while Jim stroked himself. He shifted his weight forward and put his balls on Seb’s lips, which opened. Seb sucked on one then the other while Jim continued touching himself, head thrown back. His pumps became more vigorous and he directed his ejaculate at Seb’s face, who closed his eyes when the warm cum squirted on him.   
“You look delicious, Sebby.” Jim lay on top of Seb, whose eyes were still closed. Calmly and languidly, he licked his own cum off his face, running his tongue over his nose, cheekbones, forehead, eyebrows, chin. Seb took pleasure in feeling his tongue running over his face, licking everything but his lips, and feeling his soft breath on his moist skin. Finally, he opened his eyes and adjusted themselves so they were lying on their sides, facing each other, and kissed Jim gently.   
A burnt smell filled the apartment.  
“We’ll have to order fish and chips tonight,” Jim whispered.   
***  
“Sebby, we need a bottle of absinth, bleach, two cans of baking soda, concentrated citric acid, fifteen cans of Red Bull. And soap.”   
Seb sighed as he stood up and got his jacket. “Anything else?”  
“No that’s it for now. Oh, I just remembered, you can’t go to the Tesco’s down the road. You’ll have to take the tube two stops.”  
“What? Why?”  
“We were banned from it last time. I was caught cracking into one of the check-out machines while you were packing the groceries.”   
“Fuck, every time I turn my back...” Seb stomped out angrily.   
***  
Jim leaned back in his chair, sipping his caramel frappuccino and snickering. Seb’s suspicious face was reflected in his RayBans.   
“You’re up to something. Tell me,” Seb demanded, but Jim just shook his head, trying to contain his giggles. Very soon, the air shook with a blast and Seb found himself knocked out of his chair, spilling his espresso on himself. Panic broke out in a cloud of dust, rubble and plastic cups. Jim, his hair white with concrete dust, rolled on the floor next to him in hysterics.   
“Cunting fuck Jim, that was the last café this side of the Thames that we weren’t banned from and you had to blow it up.”  
***   
Seb walked into the bathroom and crossed the black marble floor to the pearly bathtub in the middle of the room. Jim was talking to his rubber duck and did not realize Seb had entered until the latter sat on the edge of the tub.   
“Say hello to Sebby, Mr Duck!” Jim cupped a hand and scooped up some foam, which he blew into Seb’s face. Seb moved around the edge of the bathtub so he was perched behind Jim and began lathering his hair with shampoo, massaging his scalp. Jim smiled and leaned back, eyes closed.   
***  
Seb’s phone rang. He was lying on the rickety bed in the bare room, listening to the crickets in the African darkness outside.   
“Hello?”  
“Sebby, darling, it’s me! How’s it going?”  
“Fine. I found the warlord and told him your offer. He says he needs to think about it.”  
“Fair enough. Give him twelve hours. If he has no reply for me by then, liquidate him. But anyhow, that’s not why I called.”  
“Why did you call?”  
On the other end of the line, Jim was sitting in his leather sofa, drinking a martini in front of the fire. “I miss you.”  
“I miss you, too.”  
“I miss you in bed.”  
“I miss you in bed, too.”  
“What are you wearing, Sebby?”  
“Why does it matter?”  
“I’m horny.”  
“Oh.”  
Jim sighed. “Talk dirty to me, baby.”  
“This call is very expensive.”  
“Seb,” came the exasperated voice, “Do you really think I give a...talk to me about your cock; tell me what you want to do with me.”  
“I prefer listening to you, Jim.”  
Jim smiled. “Very well. I miss your cock. I feel like licking it. From the base to the tip. And sucking on it.”  
Seb liked Jim’s low tone, disclosing his arousal. He massaged his chest and tweaked his nipples gently as he listened.  
“My arse misses you, too. I love the way you fill me.” Jim had loosened his tie and opened his trousers.  
“Go on,” Seb muttered. He was palming his bulge through his khaki trousers.   
“When you get back, I want you to eat me out. Pull my cheeks apart, run your tongue up my crack. Flutter over my hole; really stick your tongue into me.” Jim’s breathing became audible.  
Seb stuck his hand into his underwear and pulled his dick out, stroking it slowly.   
“Then your fingers, which you first stick in my mouth to let me suck.” There was a pause as Jim twisted his hand around his bell-end, massaging it with his palm. “Are you also touching yourself?”  
“Yes.”  
“Good boy. I want you to just stick the tip inside me at first, then take it out when I clench around it. Would you like that?” The last word was fused with a moan as Jim climaxed.   
Seb moaned in encouragement. He too was close to the edge. Jim could tell. “Mmmh, yes, darling. When you’re back you’ll squirt on my arse.”  
Seb did squirt, but only on his white tank top for now. After another pause, during which only their breaths could be heard, Jim gave a satisfied yawn.   
“Good night, Tiger.”  
“Good night. Sweet dreams.”  
***  
“Jim, what the fuck are you doing?”  
The kitchen was cluttered with rubbish and crockery as Jim emptied out the fridge, every kitchen cupboard and bin in a frenzy. He threw banana peels, napkins, forks and yoghurt cups over his shoulders.   
“Where did those fingers go that were in the freezer? The ones you cut off the banker to make identification impossible.”  
“I threw them away last week. Why, did you still need them?”  
Jim howled in exasperation. “Oh, the things that could be deduced from the contents of our bins! This old hard-drive for instance; I used it to store a list of MI-6 code names until you crashed it with all your porn. What if someone finds it? What if someone comes across this egg carton that you emptied on the doorstep of 221B? And this receipt for eight litres of ammonia. Let alone the countless bottles of lube!”  
“Calm down. No one will look at our rubbish.”  
But ever since that day, Jim insisted that Seb carry their rubbish bags across the east of London, emptying them bit by bit in the public bins that he passed.   
***  
Jim squirmed as Seb rearranged his feet under him. They were sitting in the bathtub together with steam swirling around their heads.   
“Jim, that’s enough bubbles!”  
“There can never be enough bubbles!,” Jim declared as he squeezed a bottle of bubble bath into the tub. Very soon foam was spilling over the edge. Jim took a sponge and began scrubbing Seb’s neck and chest, which were encrusted with the blood of that day’s victim. Seb soaped up his hands and washed Jim’s face, gently cleaning off the grime and gore.   
“Ow! You got soap in my eyes!”  
“Sorry! Here, let me...” Seb opened the tap and poured water on Jim’s head with cupped hands; Jim rubbed his eyes and blinked a few times.   
“You ok now?”  
“Yeah.”  
***  
The other soldier, that army doctor, was fortunate, Sebastian contemplated morosely. At least he had a body to bury. All Sebastian could do was observe Jim’s remains being carried to the morgue by doctors and police officers. Even Molly had been there. The sniper had just watched from a nearby rooftop, hidden and empty of feeling. It was not until later that the bitterness began.   
***


End file.
